A Catherine Christmas Carol
by Annie Lune
Summary: Catherine, four ghosts, the past, the present, the future, and some eggnog. - Finished -
1. The First Apparition

**Title**: A Catherine Christmas Carol

**By**: Annie Lune

**Summary**: Catherine, four ghosts, the past, the present, the future and some plum pudding. Need I say more? 

**Disclaimer**: Have a little Christmas (and Hanukah) cheer, won't ya?

**Spoilers**: I'm going to try _really_ hard not to slip any spoilers in for season four and beyond. I know I have been 'spoiled' enough already, and I might unknowingly put something in, so I am so sorry in advance.  Up to season three, though, is fair game by me. 

**A Note**: Oh, Catherine, Catherine, _Catherine_. What are we ever going to do with you? Sure, someday we all love you, but more often than not, we can only seem to find faults with style (Or, maybe that's just the people at UtB? Hmmm…). I mean, you only single handedly blew up the lab. And then you were the cause of that man's death in one of those first episodes. Who would have saved Lindsey from the sinking car of doom if you weren't there? Who would have discovered that Sam Braun _really_ killed that girl, and that he _really_ is your father? Who would have done that but _you_ Catherine? 

Right. So the bottom line is that Catherine is one _very_ intricate character with _very_ complicated problems and even more elaborate clothing. 

In spite of all of that, it seems that for a while now, everything has been Catherine Catherine Catherine – or maybe that's just the people at UtB again. So what exactly could open her eyes and make her see the light of day compared to those awful blue lights of the crime lab?

I don't know about you, but I see definite similarities between Ms. Willows and Mr. Scrooge. So, this is a story about Catherine, a character I know and love, hate and unwillingly acknowledge some times, and often even really want her clothing. But not those pirate pants. God no. 

Also, I've been working on this for a very long time, and I hope all of my hard work has paid off. Please, as always, review and tell me what you think of it. And Flames? Keep them to yourself please. They'll just melt all the pretty snow we get up here at this time of year. I want to go and make a snowman. Please don't melt my snow. 

Thanks to all of the people _Under the Bridge_ (where those flames will be mocked, just to let you know.) for critiquing Catherine in such a great way. :-) 

{P.S., remember, I _am_ a Grissom and Sara shipper.}

And… For my 7th grade English teacher, wherever you are. Thanks for pounding this story into my head so many times so that I can still remember it after all these years. I owe you one Ms. C. 

O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O

"'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the lab…"

"Greg," Catherine snapped, "My results? TODAY?"

"…Not a creature was stirring, why, they'd all taken cabs!"

"Greg, I am getting impatient." Catherine snarled staring at him as he danced around the DNA lab. 

"The suspects had all gone home, some set free on bail. The funny thing is that none of them were female!" 

Catherine took a deep breath, "Greg, this really isn't funny. It's late, and I want to know what that substance is." 

Greg paid no mind to her. "The DNA tests were all sung with their cases, dreaming of finding suspects that matched the sketch artists faces…"

"I'm going to count to three." 

"With the lab music blaring and I in my coat, why, I had just decided to go home, and yes, that was the vote…"

"…One…"

"When down in Ballistics there arouse such a clatter! I sprang from my lab to see what was the matter! Away down the hall I flew like a flash, I was running so fast with Jacki I crashed!" 

"TWO." 

"The papers that she had dropped in our collision lay all over the hall, I wasn't my fault, but she still gave me the eyeball… But then what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a lively old man with six tiny reindeer!"

"Greg, don't make me do this. You've seen me mad and I don't think you want me mad right now." Catherine threatened as Greg pranced around waving his hands in the air and chanting. 

"In his little lab coat himself, so lively and quick, I knew at once that it was Grissom, and no, this wasn't optic. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name…"

"I'm serious…" 

"Now Sara! Now Nicky, now Warrick and Cather-."

"**GREG**." Catherine screamed and it stopped Greg and his singing. He stood there in the middle of the lab with a Christmas wreathe on his head and a Santa tie tucked into his coat. He stood there, just staring at her speechless. 

"Thank you Greg. Now, will you give me my report?"

"Bah-_humbug_." Greg replied as he shuffled his way back to his seat. 

"Bah-Humbug your self." Catherine replied as Greg hit one of the buttons on the printer and a piece began to print out. 

"Excuse me Catherine, who ruined my great song and dance? Uh, _you_ did." Greg replied dryly not looking over at her. 

Catherine took the paper off of the printer. "Sorry Greg, but it's late and I want to get home. You were just dawdling." 

"Dawdling? No Catherine, I'm in the Christmas spirit. There's a difference." He mumbled as he sat back down in his seat and took the wreath off his head. 

"You think what you want to, okay Greg?"

"At least admit that you liked my little rhyme." He added, glancing over at her as she made her way out of his lab.

"I'll see you later Greg." She replied not turning around. 

"Merry Christmas then!" Greg shouted. "I'm heading out now." he said to himself as he watched Catherine walk down the hall towards the break room. "Scrooge." He mumbled and turned back to his machines to turn them off. It was Christmas Eve, and he was more than ready to go home. 

Catherine made her way down the hall way and towards the break room where Nick and Sara sat deep in conversation. She breezed into the room, and both of them looked up to acknowledge her presence, and then turned back to their conversation. 

"What are you talking about?" Catherine asked settling into a seat next to them. 

"Oh, just Christmas plans." Sara stated, pushing her chair out and getting up. "I'll see you tomorrow Nicky." 

"Wait, where are you going?" Catherine asked surprised. She looked down at her watch. There were still two hours left of shift.

"I'm going home, Catherine." Sara replied glancing over at her. "It's Christmas Eve. I've got to put out those cookies for Santa." She added with a little smirk.

"You just can't leave." Catherine shot back. "Who said you could anyway? Crime doesn't stop just because it's a holiday you know." 

Sara exchanged a quick glance whit Nick, who sat confused at the table. "Uh, Catherine," Nick ventured, "Grissom told us earlier that if it was a slow night we could head out early."

"There hasn't been anything in for the last three hours. I've finished all my paperwork and I can't do anything else on my case until Archie gets me back those results. Since I just saw him leave, there is nothing else for me to do. I'm going home." Sara stated making he way towards the door. 

"I'll call you later, Sara." Nick called to her as she exited through the door. 

"Okay, see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas Catherine." Sara turned to look at Catherine and smiled, then quickly made her way down the hall.

"You're leaving too?" Catherine cried as she say Nick get up form his seat and take his coat off the couch.

"It's Christmas Eve, Catherine. It's time to be with family and friends. Where's Lindsey?" Nick slipped both his arms into his coat and buttoned it up.

"I can't believe this. The whole lab is taking a vacation just because it's a stupid holiday tomorrow." Catherine stated sarcastically. 

"What's gotten into you?" Nick questioned, "What do you mean, 'stupid holiday?' It's anything but that, Catherine."

"Well, maybe I'm not in the Christmas _spirit_ at the moment, Nick. Maybe I have a reason to be this way." Catherine snapped.

Nick shrugged his shoulders "No one has a reason this time of year. Look, I'm going home. Are you coming tomorrow or what?"

"Coming where?" Catherine asked, falling back onto the couch and crossing her legs. 

"Were you not paying attention when I invited you all over to my house? Grissom's brining a turkey, Sara a pie, Warrick some salad, God knows what Greg's brining…remember? I told you yesterday?"

Catherine shook her head.

"Well, you're welcome to come if you want to. Bring Lindsey too; I haven't seen her in a while."

"Aren't you on the schedule for tomorrow?" Catherine wondered as Nick opened the break room door.

"No Catherine, I'm not." He replied turning to look at her.

Catherine grabbed a magazine off the table in front of her. "_I_ am. So I guess I'm going to have to decline your invitation." 

"Fine then. Merry Christmas." 

Catherine heard the door slam shut, and turned to look in that direction. Nick was walking slowly down the hall and when he passed by Grissom's office, he stopped and stuck his head in. Nick said a few words to him, and then continued on his way. Catherine couldn't believe him, or Sara for that matter. Not only had they both left early from work today, but now Nick is taking the day off to open some lousy presents and drink eggnog? 

Catherine sighed. It's her fault that she's not in the Christmas spirit. To her, it felt like just another day. She would leave at the end of shift, go home, see Lindsey and then climb into bed, and do the same exact thing tomorrow. Sure, she had bought Lindsey a few things for the holiday, but nothing big. Catherine never got anything big for Christmas growing up, and she felt that Lindsey didn't need anything more than what she already had. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine caught sight of a brown fro. She looked up to see Warrick standing in the hallway talking to one of the interns who was still hanging around. Catherine thought this a good time to talk to him. The intern was a nobody in the lab, while Catherine on the other hand was a somebody. And besides, it was Warrick. Of course he was going to give Catherine his full attention.  

"Here, Rachel," Warrick said handing the intern a card, "Wish your brother Merry Christmas too."

"Warrick," Catherine stated placing her hands on her hips. Warrick turned to look at her.

"Hold on a sec," He said as the intern leaned forward and gave him a hug.

"I'll be sure to tell my brother that." Rachel was saying handing Warrick a small wrapped gift. 

"Warrick." Catherine said a little more sternly, but Warrick still did not divert his full attention to her. 

"I'll talk to you towards the end of the week." He said to Rachel, as she began to walk down the hall. 

"I'll be waiting." She replied, smiling at him and then sauntering off. 

"_Warrick_." Catherine said one more time as the intern walked away. 

"_What_?" He cried, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat. "You have my attention now, what do you want?" Warrick turned and began to walk down the hall towards the locker room. 

"What did she give you?" Catherine asked trying to peek over his shoulder. 

Warrick turned into the locker room. "What does it matter to you?" he asked opening his locker and taking out his coat. 

Catherine pouted. "I want to see." 

"Well, it's going under the Christmas tree." Warrick placed the bag into his coat pocket. 

"What is with everyone and this stupid Christmas cheer?" Catherine cried, slumping down onto the bench. 

Warrick stood there staring at her. He was in no mood to sit him self down and comfort her like a good comrade. All he wanted to do was get him self home and not think about work for a good two days.  If Catherine was going to try and keep him from his destination, well, she had another thing coming. 

"I think you just stopped believing in Santa." Warrick replied trying to make an exit. 

"I think I just stopped believing all together." Catherine hung her head.  

Oh god, Warrick sighed to himself. "Don't say that." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, you should head out too. What about Lindsey?"

"She's at home with the babysitter." 

"You should get home. She probably wants to be with you." Warrick said reaching the door. "I'll make sure to bring her a good present." 

"Hum?" Catherine looked over at him. "Present?"

He gave her a quizzical look, "You're coming to Nick's tomorrow, right?" he asked, stepping though the door. 

"No, I'm working."

"For crying out loud Catherine, it's Christmas. Be with your daughter, not with the escaped felons." Warrick said, watching her shift uncomfortable on the bench. She didn't reply.

Warrick sighed, taking a step thought the door. "I guess you're right. You have stopped believing." And he turned down the hallway towards Grissom's office, leaving Catherine in the locker room by herself. 

O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O

The sounds of _A Kenny G Christmas_ filled Grissom's lab. Warrick sauntered down the hall and stopped in front of his door. Grissom sat at his desk behind the piles of paperwork. 

"All I want for Christmas is for this to disappear." Grissom grumbled putting his pen down and looking up at Warrick.

Warrick took as step into the office and walked over to Grissom's desk. He picked up one of the files and opened it. "Gris, this stuff goes back a couple of months, why have you put it off until now?"

Grissom leaned back in his chair. "Because it's Christmas and everyone is at home with family, not committing murder around town. It's been a very slow night."  

"I'm going to head out, is that okay with you?" Warrick asked, as Grissom stood up and clicked off his music. 

"I was just about to do the same. Nothing else for us to do here." He walked over and took his coat off one of the chairs and slipped his arms into it. "Catherine still here?" he asked as he flipped off the lights and he and Warrick walked back out into the hall. 

"Does she always get this way around Christmas?" Warrick asked as Grissom shut and locked his door. 

"What, you don't remember last year?"  Grissom asked surprised, turning to look at Warrick. "Catherine showed up for work all week dressed as Mrs. Clause. She tried to get me to wear a red suit. She normally gets eccentric around this time of year."

"Not this year." Warrick mumbled, as the two of them began to walk down the hall. "She's all depressed and moody." 

"Usually this is the only time of the year when she isn't that way." Grissom quipped as they passed the break room. Catherine was once again inside and sitting at the table with the paper spread out in front of her. "I'll go have a talk with her. See you tomorrow, Warrick. Merry Christmas." 

The two men parted ways and Grissom pushed the door to the break room open. Catherine didn't acknowledge his presence until Grissom had sat himself down at the table in front of her. "I don't think your going to find that Barbie that you got for Lindsey on sale now." He quipped. 

"I returned it." Catherine said flatly and turned a page.

Grissom sighed. "Catherine, go home. You're just going to become even more disheartened sitting here in the lab all by yourself." 

Catherine folded the paper and put it on the table. "And where do you suggest I go to brighten my mood?"

"I'm not going to fight with you." Grissom said standing up. "I'm here to tell you to go home and I don't want to see you back here until New Years." 

"No, Grissom." She stood up and in the process the chair flew back and crashed to the floor. "I'm going to be back here tomorrow, whether you like it or not. Enjoy your Christmas turkey and I hope you have a merry holiday." Grissom expected her to sit back down and open the paper, but instead she stormed out of the room and down the hall. There was nothing else keeping Grissom at work. So he exited the break room and made his way towards his Denali. He wasn't going to let Catherine ruin his spirit. 

O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O

By the time Catherine left the lab two hours later, it was raining. Not hard for this time of year in Vegas, but it was definitely perception. If this was New England, it would have been snow, but it was not. It was Vegas on the night before Christmas.

Catherine drove home in silence; she didn't want any sounds disturbing her thought. She pondered many things as the navigated through the silent streets of Vegas. Mostly everyone else was at home with family celebrating and singing carols and decking the halls. But not the Willow family. Lindsey was at home with a babysitter, Eddie was dead and Catherine was a single mom working the graveyard shift at the lab. She wondered why her life had come to this; it didn't seem real any more. She felt like a robot working every waking moment and doing the same tedious routine day after day. 

And if her working life felt surreal, then her home life was a total dream. The fact that Sam was her father still hadn't set into her mind. Catherine knew that sooner or later she was going to have to do something about him (and all of his money) but that would have to wait until next week. Too much was already happening this week.

The Babysitter's car was in the driveway, and Catherine pulled in along side it. She turned off the engine and rested her head back against the headrest. Catherine felt as if she didn't have any strength to get out of the car and go inside, but it was late. Catherine knew that the babysitter, Mary, needed to get home. 

"Hello?" Catherine called as she pushed open the door. The house was quiet. The Christmas tree that her and Lindsay had decorated in an hour a week ago stood in the corner, all lit up. The smell of cookies reached Catherine's nose as she placed her purse down on the table inside. She didn't remember giving Mary permission to make cookies with Lindsey. Lately Mary had been doing things that Catherine really didn't approve of, but it was hard to find a babysitter willing to spend a good portion of the night with Lindsey while she worked, and Catherine was not about to fire her now. 

Mary came around the corner, "Your home Ms. Willows." She said walking over to the couch and picking up her bag. "Lindsey has been sound asleep for some time. As you can probably smell, we made cookies. I hope that's okay."

"Why did you make them?" Catherine wondered walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch.

Mary looked puzzled. "It's Christmas Eve. You have to have cookies for Santa." 

"Oh, don't tell me Lindsey still believes in that." Catherine snorted, picking up one of the magazines lying on the coffee table. 

"She's a little girl, of course she believes." Mary replied, slipping her coat on. 

"Yeah, yeah, Marry Christmas, Mary." Catherine opened to one of the pages. _How to Lose Fifteen Pounds After the Holidays _it read. 

"Um, Ms. Willows?" Mary asked a little sheepishly. Catherine looked up. "I'm going to be gone next week, remember?"

Catherine shook her head. Mary had informed her that she was going to Bermuda with her boyfriend and wouldn't be able to work for a while. "Yes, I remember."

"You said last week that you would pay me today."

Catherine looked startled. "I did?"

"Yes, you did." Mary answered back. 

"Fine," Catherine put down her article and walked over to her purse. She pulled it open and took out her checkbook. "How much do I owe you again, two hundred dollars?"

"We agreed on a price of eight dollars per hour."

"Yeah, so how much did you work this week? Wasn't it twenty five?" she began to scribble out the check. 

"Ms. Willows, you didn't pay me last month. So, you owe me for seven weeks."

"How much could you have worked in seven weeks?" Catherine retorted, starting to get annoyed with this whole exchange.

"Well, I worked six days a week, for seven weeks. That's forty two days, and I worked about seven hours every time, and then eight dollars per hour." Mary said, scuffing her foot on the floor as if she was embarrassed.

"Stop trying to confuse me with the math and just tell me Mary!" Catherine cried about to lose her temper. 

"You owe me two thousand, three hundred and fifty two dollars." Mary replied curtly. 

Catherine's jaw dropped. "That's before taxes, right?" 

"Ms. Willows, please, that's how much you owe me. I've been keeping track if you really want to do the math yourself, but it's late and I want to get home." 

Catherine hastily wrote at the check, cringing at every number. She handed it to Mary, who, with one last Merry Christmas to her and Lindsey (thought tucked away in bed), turned and walked out the door. Catherine slammed it behind her and stocked into the kitchen. She wanted a cup of tea. 

After Catherine had placed a pot of water on the stove and turned it on high, she shuffled off to her room. All the blinds had been drawn closed before she left for work and they were still that way when she entered. The room was pitch black. 

Catherine stripped down to her underwear and then pulled a pair of flannel pajamas on. She wanted to be comfortable after a long day of work, and wearing her favorite pair of pajamas would definitely do the trick. 

A sound from the hallway caught her attention, and she ducked her head through her doorway and looked around. Lindsey's door had creaked open a little. For some strange reason, Catherine had a sudden urge to go into her little girl and giver her a kiss on the cheek. She took a few steps towards the door and gently pushed it open. Lindsey lay there under the covers all sung as a bug. Suddenly, Catherine heard her water boiling, so she turned away from the sleeping Lindsey and walked briskly out of the room. How could she have been so stupid to leave the water boiling on the stove? Catherine scolded herself for doing such a thing. Bad situations can happen when you leave a liquid next to a hot surface_. She_ should know that. 

Catherine got an herbal tea bag out of the cupboard and poured her tea into a cup. From there, she retreated to the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. _I'm going to sit here for a minute, then off to bed…_ She thought pulling a blank up over her legs_, Just to relax for a little while…_

DING 

Catherine sat up with a jolt. 

DING 

"What the…?" she said standing up quickly. At some point, Catherine had drifted off and tangled her legs up in the blanket, so when she stood up, or more tried to, she instead fell crashing into the coffee table, smacking her now cold cup of tea.

DING 

Catherine pushed herself up off the table now, tossing the blanket down into the spilled tea. She knew she was going to have to clean that up sooner or later, but not right now…something was…

DING 

Something was dinging. It sounded like a grandfather's clock, but Catherine didn't own one. She didn't even have a clock that chimed at the hour. 

DING 

Where is this stupid thing coming from, and what time is it anyway? Catherine had come home at the end of shift, which tonight would have been five in the morning, since the shifts were all screwed up this week. But the clock had just chimed five times…

DING 

And was still chiming. This is strange. Someone is messing with her. Nick is probably standing outside her front door with a clock trying to scare her or something. _Yeah, that was it. He's feeling upset about the fact that I blew off his Christmas invitation, and he's trying to scare me…_

DING 

_But with a clock?_ This wasn't adding up to Catherine. It had to be at least six in the morning, but the clock, wherever it was, was telling her that it is seven….

DING 

Make that eight in the morning. Catherine straightened her self up, and walked into the kitchen to grab a paper towel to mop up the spilled tea. 

DING 

The clock continued to ding. This is not a finny joke. Catherine knew that she was going to have to hurt someone because of this. Whatever time it truly is, she knew that it was time for bed. Sleeping on the couch had not been fun, and now her back hurt. She would mop up the spilled tea in the morning. It wasn't going to go anywhere. 

DING 

"STOP THAT!" Catherine cried aloud as she made her way to her room. "STOP IT, STOP IT!" she bellowed, and then remembered that Lindsey was asleep. Maybe she shouldn't yell any more. 

DING 

Catherine opened the door to her room, stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her.

The drone seemed to be just as loud in here as it was out there. This was some really cruel joke. Catherine threw back the covers on the bed and climbed in. Pulling the covers over her head, she heard one more ding, but this time, fainter. 

**Ding. **

But it was still loud. Thinking back, Catherine tried to recount all of the chimes that had gone off. There were twelve, but it certainly wasn't midnight, or noon either. She pulled the covers up over her head, and sighed. At least the chiming had stopped. Now, it was time for bed. 

CLUNK 

Catherine stuck her head out from underneath the covers and peered around the room. Something had just fallen. "I'll get it in the morning," she sighed to herself, and pulled her head back under. 

CLANK 

Once again, Catherine's head came back out. "Lindsey? Is that you?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. "Lindsey?" she called again, but received no answer. 

The first sound droned again, but this time it was louder. A lot louder. 

CLUNK  
CLANK

Catherine leaned forward in bed. "Lindsey, cut it out. It's not funny. Fist it was the chiming clock, and now this?" she called into the darkness, but there was still no response. The sounds seemed to be getting closer.

**CLUNK  
CLANK**

**CLUNK**

It sounded like someone was walking across the wooden floor in the kitchen.

**CLANK**

**CLUNK**

**CLANK**

And they were coming down the hall now. 

CLUNK 

In a flash, Catherine had gotten out of bed and dove for her closet. She kept a bat in there for that just in case instance. This would be one of those instances. 

**CLANK**

**CLUNK**

**CLANK**

The sound reminder her of metal against wood. _So the attacker is wearing metal books, great_, she thought, gripping the bat tighter. Catherine crept across the floor and stood behind the bedroom door. The sounds had stopped now. Catherine looked down at the door handle, and saw that it was slowly turning. She gripped the bat tighter. The lock on the door clicked, and it creaked open. Catherine stood there, bat in hand waiting for the mysterious person to reveal him/her/itself to her. 

The door continued to creak open, so now Catherine stood behind it and the mysterious intruder on the other side. It was now fully open. Catherine could see the shadow of someone on the floor. She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing…

"Catherine?"

**_BAM_**

Catherine lunged forward, slamming the door behind her and swung at the stranger in the doorway. She felt her bat come in contact with something, but she heard no sound. Catherine stumbled back and lost her footing. She fell onto the side of the bed, bat still tightly in hand. It was then that she looked up at whom was standing in the doorway. 

It was Grissom. 

But it wasn't Grissom. 

It looked like Grissom had been hit by a bus and then dragged behind it for fifteen miles, then tossed into a swamp and _then_ walked through a cornfield. His hair was a mess, his clothes were ragged, and for some strange reason his legs and arms where chained together with heave metal links. 

"That hurt." Grissom stated rubbing his head where Catherine had obviously hit. "You could have at least asked who was there before you decided to attack me."

Catherine gaped at him. 

"What? Is something wrong?" Grissom asked as he walked across her floor and took a seat on the bed next to her. Not only did Grissom look bad, but he also didn't smell like roses. 

"Grissom, you're…" Catherine searched for the words to explain her thoughts.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Dead? Tell me about it." 

"Dead?" Catherine squeaked out. How could Grissom be dead? 

"Do you want to hand me that bat?" he asked instead eyeing the weapon still in her hands. Grissom didn't wait for an answer. He reached out and took it from her. Then, with a wave of his hand, the bat disappeared into thin air right in front of Catherine's eyes. 

There was then a moment of uneasy silence between the two of them. They were certainly a funny looking sight. Catherine sitting there in her flannel pajamas gawking at the dead Grissom, and Grissom dead and sitting on the edge of her bed. It was definitely a Kodak moment. 

"Grissom…what?…why?…how?…" Catherine couldn't form coherent sentences any more, and resorted to hand singles that consisted of her pointing to Grissom and then at the floor and at herself and at the ceiling and then at where the bat had just disappeared. 

"That's not important right now." Grissom said shifting to look at her.

"Grissom, your _dead_." Catherine said raising an eyebrow at him. 

Grissom ignored her. "Catherine, I'm here to warn you."

Catherine folded her hands cross her chest. "First, tell me why you are dead." 

"The powers to be struck me down with a bolt of lighting." He mumbled through clenched teeth. "Happy now? Can I go on?" Catherine shook her head yes.

"Catherine, I'm here to warn you." He said sighing. 

"Well gee, aren't we a little late for that? Not only did you somehow break into my house but then you scared the crap out of me…you don't think that needed a little warning?" Catherine stated sarcastically.  

"You need to take this seriously." Grissom said now standing up off the bed. He pants left a nasty muddy mark on the bed and his chains clanked against the floor as he walked. "I'm not Grissom, Catherine. I'm the _ghost_ of Grissom." 

Catherine tried really hard to hold back her laughter, but it didn't work.

"I'm serious!" Grissom bellowed, and she became silent. "Now, are you going to listen to my warning?" 

Catherine nodded her head, now a little bit frightened. 

"Catherine, I'm here to warn you about the errors in your ways. I could not stop my fate and this is why I am here now." Grissom looked down at his pitiful appearance.

"And what were your errors, Grissom?" Catherine asked a little curious. Grissom didn't answer. "_And what where your errors, Grissom_?" she asked a little bit louder. 

Grissom glared at Catherine. "Fine, you want to know? The powers to be punished me because it took me so darn long to so do seething about _THIS_! And then, when I _did_ do something, it just left a lot of uncomfortable moments between Sara and I. And how about when I snapped at her? And when we were on that rushed case…god that was uncomfortable…" Grissom realized that Catherine was staring wide eyed at him. Clearing his throat, he continued. "You will be visited by three ghosts tonight." 

"Three?" Catherine said aloud. "As in, one, two, three?"

"Yes, that's is how you count, Catherine." Grissom quipped. 

"You're not the first ghost?"

"No. Well, yes. I am the first ghost. But there will be three more. So, I guess you can say that there will be a total of four ghosts tonight, including me."

Catherine put her hands on her hips. "Well, why didn't you say that in the first place?" 

"Look, Catherine, I can make it eight ghosts if you really want to make this hard on yourself…"

"Fine, Gil, fine." Catherine said standing up and going over to her nightstand. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair. "And why are they coming?"

"To show you the ERRORS IN YOUR WAYS!" Grissom roared. Catherine dropped her hairbrush and looked at Grissom in the mirror reflection. 

"Look, I've got lots of people to see now that I am dead, and you are just holding me up. So, I'm going now." Grissom turned and began to walk towards the door. 

"Wait!" Catherine cried running after him. "When will these ghost come? What should I dress in? Should I wake Lindsey?"  

"One, two and three o'clock." Grissom replied turning back to look at her. "Wear that for all I care. It's not like someone's going to see you," he said gesturing towards her pajamas. "And let Lindsey sleep." 

"Bye Grissom." Catherine called as he walked once again towards the door. 

"Yeah, by Catherine. Have a happy life." He moaned, and took a step forward, his chains clanking behind him. 

"Uh, Grissom, shouldn't you-"

Catherine was about to say open the door, but Grissom had already tried to walk through the wood and failed miserably. Instead, he fell back with a THUD and he and his shackles crashed to the floor with him. 

"Yeah, I know. I've got to get used to this ghost thing. I guess you _really_ can't walk through walls." Grissom grumbled and now opened the bedroom door and stepped through it, leaving Catherine all alone once again. She heard him go clanking down the hall and could only imagine the damage he was doing her wood floors. Then, just as abruptly as the sounds had started, they stopped and everything was once again quiet. 

Catherine stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Her mind was still spinning when she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over her head_. Three ghosts are coming to visit me?_ _To show me the errors in my ways?_ She thought as she settled down against her pillow. _Whatever._ Catherine shut her eyes and fell asleep. 

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	2. The Ghost of Christmas Past

Thanks for the reviews everyone, they mean a lot! As always, tell me what you think. Those words that you leave me in that little box really make my day. 

O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O

DING 

Catherine sat straight up in bed. The chiming was back. She waited for it to ring again, but when it never came, she laid back down in bed. If the mysterious clock was now ringing one, it meant that Catherine had only been asleep an hour. Catherine moaned knowing that tomorrow was going to be a very long day if she was going to be up every hour on the hour. 

The door to her room then creaked open. Catherine turned over on her side and looked over in that direction. She could see a light on in the hallway. _That's strange_, she thought sitting up again, and then something arrived at her nose. Catherine took a whiff of the air and suddenly she was hungry. The most delicious smell in the whole world was lofting around in her house. Someone was baking.  Pushing the covers back on the bed, she climbed out and slipped her feet into her slippers. 

The door creaked as Catherine opened it more and stuck her head out in the hallway. Whatever it was, it still smelled scrumptious, and the sound of pots and pans could now be heard. Catherine made her way down the hallway towards the kitchen only to find it in darkness. She scratched her head and then noticed the shadow moving behind the counter. Not wanting to startle this intruder, who stood next to the counter with what looked like a pot in hand, she crept towards the light switch on the side of the wall, and flicked it on. 

"AH!" the interloper cried, dropping the pan that he was holding and it crashed to the floor. 

"Why are you baking in my house?" Catherine asked, placing her hands on her hips. She no longer had her bat, so she was going to have to take this person down mano a mano. The intruder straightened up, and Catherine realized that it wasn't a man. 

 It was a she. 

And it was Sara. 

"Sorry, Catherine. I didn't mean to frighten you." Sara wiped a smudge of flour off her cheek and bent back down to pick up the pan that she had dropped. 

"What are you doing here?" Catherine asked bewildered. 

"I'm baking cookies." Sara replied from her position on the floor. 

Catherine walked over towards the counter to examine the batch that she could smell. "Lindsey already made cookies…are these for Christmas?" Catherine asked holding up a top shaped cookie. 

"No, those are for Hanukkah. And that's a dreidel." Sara said nodding towards the cookie. 

Catherine took a bite of the cookie. "Why are you making Hanukkah cookies?" she asked. Even if she was a tad bit confused, the cookie was good. 

"Just because it's Christmas time, it does not mean that other people aren't celebrating their holidays, too." Sara stated, placing the pot that she had dropped on the counter and brushing flour off her clothing. That's when Catherine first noticed what she was dressed in.

 Sara wasn't dressed normally, or, normal for Sara. She wore a dark green velvet dress and as Sara walked over towards the refrigerator Catherine noticed that it reached the floor and left a small train behind her as she walked. Her hair was curly and pulled back on her head with a blue barrette, and she wore a _lot_ of jewelry. Bracelets and rings and necklaces, and more jewels on her dress that jingled as she walked across the floor.

"Do you have any more eggs?" Sara asked as she opened the refrigerator. "I haven't finished the Kwanzaa cookies yet, and I still have to make the Boxing Day ones." 

Catherine stared as Sara made her way back across the floor to stand in front of her. She stopped a few inches and stood in front of Catherine. It looked to her like Sara had grown another four inches since their last meeting. Sara then smiled at Catherine, and Catherine stared back at her, unsure of what to say. 

Sara wiped more flour off her other cheek. "Do you? I need to finish this batch." 

Catherine wasn't sure of what to say. "Uh…" she droned out, "do you know that Grissom's dead?" Catherine finally ventured. 

"Serves him right," she said coldly as she walked over to the oven and opened it up. The cookies in there smelled even better. . "I had some doing in that whole thing. It was supposed to open his eyes and show him the world, but I think it just hindered everything even more."  She shook her head and removed one of the trays from the over. 

"You know you spilled something, right?" Sara then stated, motioning down to the floor at the tea spill.

"What are you doing here, Sara?" Catherine finally asked, feeling a little measly in her presence. Sara pulled out a spatula and began to work the cookies off the sheet. 

"Here, try another." Sara handed a cookie to Catherine who took it in her hands. "Catherine, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past." She then said after Catherine had taken a bite.  

"Oh." Catherine said, a little confused and popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth. She had to hand it to Sara. She made a mean dreidel cookie. "Uh, why?" she finally asked after she had swallowed.  

"Because Catherine, I have to show you what you did wrong and how it has affected your actions of today. Are you sure you don't have any more eggs?" Sara asked again, going over to the sink to wash her hands. "Warrick is going to be so disappointed, I promised him some more cookies."

"Right. Um, can I ask you a question, Sara?" Catherine ventured as Sara dried her hands on a paper towel. 

"Shoot." Sara then walked to the counter and collected all of the mixing bowls in front of her.  

"I'm going to have more ghostly visitors, right?"

Sara waved her hands, and the bowls disappeared. "Yup." Clapping her hands, the kitchen then cleaned itself of all of the flour and crumbs that she had made while mixing the cookies. 

"You're one of them…and Grissom has already visited me." 

"Very good, Catherine." Sara said half jokingly and leaned on the counter. There was one last crumb and Sara brushed it into her hand. 

"Just tell me, am I going to be getting a visit from Greg?" She asked a little nervous.

"Greg's actually where we're going." Sara stated taking a few cookies off the tray that had just come off. "Hold these for him." Sara handed Catherine the cookies.

"What about Nick and Warrick?" Catherine asked, looking down at the cookies. She really wanted to eat one. 

"Yup, them too. Look, Catherine, we're on a tight schedule…do you want to help me hurry this along?" Sara asked, walking now towards the door and opened it up.  

"You're the one who was baking." She stated dryly, and Sara shot her a look. Catherine went on, "But why are you stuck with my past?" Catherine asked taking a few steps towards her. 

Sara rolled here eyes. "Catherine, let's think about this for a second, okay? I am the ghost of Christmas PAST. Meaning what you did _before_ this night. What did you do last Christmas?"

"I was with Eddie and Lindsey." Catherine placed the cookies in her hand into a bag from the counter and closed it. 

"Now let's think back about fifteen years. What were you doing _then_?"

Catherine put the cookies in her pocket and thought for a moment.  And then suddenly it clicked. "Oh."

"Yeah." Sara said stepping outside. "Do you _really_ want Nick and Warrick seeing that? They only started fighting over it, so Grissom had to step in and told me that I had to take you on this little excursion. Do you think that _I_ want to do this?"

"Not my fault." Catherine said breezing by here and stepping out into the Las Vegas night air. 

"Yeah, that and a lot of other things." Sara mumbled.

"Did you say something?"

"No. Nothing at all. Now come here." Sara beckoned for Catherine to come and stand next to her. "Now, this won't hurt at all. It might tingle for a second, but it will get us there the quickest."

"What will?" Catherine asked, now a little scared. What was Sara going to do?

"Take this." Sara handed her a bottle of luminol. 

Catherine didn't have time to formulate a question. Before she knew it, she had been sucked into the sky and floating with Sara over the skyline of Vegas. She tried to talk – heck, she even tried to scream – but nothing came out. Her legs dangled in the air as the floated along, Sara next to her gracefully drifting along like she had done this before. She more than likely had because she didn't seem to pay attention to the fact that they were now sailing over the Luxor. The bright light blinded Catherine for a moment and the put her hands to her eyes to cover them. When she removed them, Sara was reaching over to take the luminol out of her hands. As she did that, they both started to descend to the ground. 

"Luminol," Sara said. They were not about thirty feet off the ground, and falling fast. "Good for everything. Just don't drink it."

Catherine landed with a thud on the ground, while Sara landed gracefully on her feet. 

"Oww." Catherine moaned as she got back up to her feet. Her lower back hurt now and she slouched over rubbing it. 

"Oh, it's not that bad." Sara said rolling her eyes and began to walk away from Catherine towards the building looming in front of them. 

Catherine looked up. She didn't remember this place, but it was obviously important to her past. She followed Sara in through the door in the front of the building, and it now started to look familiar. They were in a movie theater, actually an Art House, one that Catherine actually had visited before. Someone had been murdered here about seven months ago, and then her and Grissom had come back here to see a movie. But why were she and Sara here now? Nothing relevant to her life had actually happened here. 

Sara had already entered the theater and Catherine hurried up to her; she didn't seem to be waiting for anything tonight. Catherine entered the theater only to find it deserted. Sara sat smack-dab in the center of one of the back rows. 

"Pick a seat, any seat." Sara said, stretching out her legs.

"I don't have to sit with you?" Catherine wondered. Sara rolled her eyes. She seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. 

"Oh, come sit here." Sara pointed to the seat next to her, and not wanting to enrage Sara, Catherine walked over. 

The two of them sat there for a few moments, Catherine gazing around the theater trying to find some clue as to why she they were there, and Sara twiddling her thumbs. Finally Catherine turned to Sara. 

"Why are we here?" She asked casually. 

"We're here to see a show." Sara replied. 

"What show?"

"One about your life. Do you want some popcorn?" Sara lifted her hand and snapped her fingers. A box of popcorn appeared in her lap, and she began to eat it. Catherine just stared at what has just happened. 

"I like the fact that you can make stuff appear and disappear in thin air." Catherine finally stated reaching over and taking a handful. Sara didn't answer, so Catherine went on. "When is this show going to start?" She asked, looking at the blank screen in front of them. The theater could have at least put on some music. That would have made the awkward silence between the two women a little less painful. 

Sara shrugged her shoulders. "Whenever Greg gets the movie booted up." 

Catherine twisted around and stared up at the projection booth. A light was on inside, and Catherine could just barely make out a shadow moving around up there. "What exactly is Greg doing?"

"Oh, he's putting all of the clips in order." Sara stated now turning around to look up at the booth, too. "Are you almost done?" Sara called out. 

There was a short pause, a loud crash, and then Greg stuck his head out through the small square window. "Hi Catherine!" he called out and waved.  Catherine reluctantly waved back. 

"Greg?" Sara yelled out again, bringing Greg out of his daze. 

"Yeah, yeah, the movie, it should be up in a sec." He yelled back, and the bobbed back through the window.  

Catherine turned back around. "Why is Greg helping you?"

"Because Archie's out with his girlfriend." Sara grumbled and stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. 

"Testing? One, two, THREE." Greg's voice boomed over the loud speaker. "Is this thing on? Ahem." Greg paused for a second, and then went on. "Catherine Willows, _this is your life_." He lowered his voice about an octave, and Catherine laughed. 

"What?" Sara asked defensively. 

"Greg's doing the narrative?" Pictures of Catherine as a child opening Christmas began to flash on the screen, accompanied by some sappy Christmas music. 

"Well, gee, Catherine, Hodges was buys, too." Sara barked. "Look Catherine," she said pointing towards the screen. Catherine looked at it for the first time only to see a picture of her in a pink little dress seated at the kitchen table stuffing her face with cookies. It wasn't a really great picture of Catherine, and she moaned a little knowing that now Sara and Greg were going to be subjected to this. 

Sara went on, "Are you going to watch the movie? Because it's all about you, you should love this." 

Catherine huffed, and slouched down in her seat as another picture flashed on the screen. 

"Here we have Catherine at age five. Christmas was a happy time for her then…and she loved spending her Christmas mornings romping through the snow in Montana." Greg practically sang as a picture of her bundled up in a snowsuit was flashed on the screen.  

"Is Greg going to talk about me like I'm not in the theater all night?" Catherine whispered to Sara. 

"Shhh!" Sara hushed back. She pointed to the screen only to see a picture of Catherine in her teens appear on the screen. Catherine groaned. The one thing she did not want to see right now was more pictures of her making bad fashion choices like the one that was on the screen now. 

"Greg hair." Sara laughed as Catherine buried her head into her hands. "I didn't know it could poof like that." Sara made a gesture with her hands to manifest the size of Catherine's hear. 

"Okay, I was young and foolish." Catherine moaned smacking Sara I the arm. "Are _you_ going to watch the movie now?"

"Catherine's happy Christmases continued into her teenage years. It was at this age that she first received makeup and discovered the many uses of mistletoe." Greg's booming voice interrupted the banter that had started between Catherine and Sara. They then turned back to look at the screen as a picture of Catherine a little too dolled up in makeup flashed. The next was one of her with one boy under the mistletoe. The next picture was also of Catherine under the mistletoe. And then one after that also. 

"I'm sensing a patter." Sara stuffed more popcorn into her mouth. "You sure took full advantage of that plant, didn't you?"

"I think I know someone else who took advantage of a plant." Catherine shot back, folding her hands across her chest as another picture of her with another boy flashed on the screen. Catherine could only speculate as to how Greg had gotten his hands on all of these pictures. She thought she had burned them some time ago. 

Sara raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? _Me_ taking advantage of a plant?" 

Catherine shrugged, "Deny it all you want." 

"I don't even know what context that question is in. I don't _want_ to know what you are suggesting." Sara shuddered and took the last kernel of popcorn and ate it. She looked back up and smiled. "Isn't this fun?" Sara asked, trying to change the subject. "You, me, old mortifying pictures of you flashing before our eyes…" This time, a video of Catherine dancing around the house in a nightgown appeared on the screen. 

"Now, was this taken before, or after, you started dancing?" Catherine waved her arms madly around in the air and sang a song that neither Catherine, nor Sara, recognized. It might have been due to Catherine's singing ability though. 

Catherine huffed. Sara was not making this any easier on her. 

"Soon, Catherine left her Montana home and traveled to Vegas," Greg announced to the two of them. Catherine shut her eyes, not wanting to see any more. Sara did the same. Greg on the other hand, kept his eyes wide open. 

Instead of going to a picture of Catherine in her 'glory days,' a picture of an ice rink appeared on the screen. Sara opened one of her eyes, only to see a shot of her and Grissom sitting on the bleachers. 

"GREG!" she screamed, and he stuck his head out the projection window. 

"What?" he called down to her. 

"This is not Catherine's life!" Sara cried, "Change it! Change it!"

Catherine opened her eyes. "Hmm?" She asked, looking first at the uptight Sara and then to the screen. 

"How do you know it's not from Catherine's life?" Greg asked, looking towards the screen. 

"CHANGE IT!" Sara roared, and Greg disappeared back inside the booth. 

"Since when have you been interested in beauty?" Sara on screen was asking Grissom. 

"Sorry, but we have experienced some technical difficulties." Greg called over the loud speaker and the shot of Grissom and Sara changed to that of a dark nightclub. Sara breathed a sigh of relief, and Catherine shut her eyes again. 

"Catherine spent…most of her…. Christmases…. working after…. she came to…Vegas." Greg dragged out, obviously distracted by what was not flashing on the screen. 

"Oh, Greg, grow up." Sara snapped, and then turned to her side. "Catherine, you can open your eyes." 

Catherine slowly opened her eyes and looked at the screen. Sure enough, it was of her dancing, but there was something odd about the video. 

"You had this censored?" Catherine asked surprised. 

Sara rolled here eyes. "You think any of us wants to see that, _other_ than Greg?"

Catherine started blankly at the screen. It was her all right. Catherine watched the video as if she was watching an old movie, silently smiling to herself. In the corner of the screen, a glimpse of Eddie could be seen. Catherine gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.  

Sara turned towards her. "You okay?" 

Catherine shook her head yes, as a picture of her and Eddie appeared under the mistletoe. 

"No part of this was intended to case you pain or distraught. Really." Sara reassured. "Do you want Greg to fast forward?" Catherine smiled weakly as a response. It was still hard for her to think about Eddie, and it was even worse for her to have to relive the night they met again. It was a Christmas a very long time ago, and they were both lonely way back then. It pained her still to think of his death. 

Greg fast-forwarded a few years to a time when Catherine was pregnant. She hobbled around the lab eating junk food and making sarcastic comments.

"Having Catherine pregnant and at the lab at Christmas caused many a nickname to come up. Scrooge, Frosty, Heat-miser…" Greg's list continued on. 

"Kind of like now." Sara griped. "Want a soda?" She then asked Catherine, who shook her head no. Sara shrugged and raised a hand into the air and waved it around a little. Moments later, a diet coke appeared in her hand and Sara took a sip. 

"How do you do that?" Catherine asked memorized by the fact that Sara had pulled a coke out of thin air. 

"Do what?" Sara took another gulp.

"_That_." Catherine pointed to the coke. 

"Magical powers." Sara quipped, "They're included in the package when you die." 

"Your dead too?" Catherine asked startled. 

"Are you not going to watch the movie?" Sara asked pointing to the screen, "We went to a lot of trouble to get this for you, and _you better enjoy it._" 

Greg cleared his throat. "If you had food at the lab, Catherine became your best friend. She also received the nickname, 'Vulture' for her habit of scavenging for food." Catherine came wobbling onto the screen eating a Big Mac. "Everyone feared the wrath of her and getting in the way of her much needed food cravings." Catherine entered the break room and took a seat at the table to acquaint her with the Christmas cookies there. "Wow, you were big. Are you sure that you didn't have twins?" Greg joked. Sara snickered. 

"Call me when you're pregnant, okay?" Catherine sneered. Sara just continued to laugh, and was soon joined by a faint giggle from Greg, as Catherine on screen polished off her third cookie. The door in the back of the lab opened and a broad shouldered man came waltzing in. He had curly brown hair and the bluest eyes in the world. He sauntered over and took a seat at the table, smiling broadly as Catherine pulled the cookies towards her and away from him. 

"Is that Eddie?" Sara asked taking another sip of her soda.

Catherine looked offended. "That's Grissom."

Sara spit her soda out. "What?" she asked, looking at the screen, "No…that can't be him… how long was this ago?" Sara didn't dare look away from the screen. 

"I don't know, how old is Lindsey?" Sara still did not break the trance, but rolled her eyes anyway. 

To Sara's dismay, the scene then changed to the Willow's first Christmas with Catherine and Eddie together watching Lindsey play with the wrapping paper of one of her presents. Catherine couldn't help but sniffle a little remembering that first time they celebrated the holiday as a family. She gulped, trying to hold back the tears that she knew were forming. How could this make her cry? Last year at this time she wouldn't have given this first Christmas a second thought. But now, sitting here with the ghost of Christmas past watching a movie that Greg had spliced together, everything seemed to be getting to her. 

"Lindsey loved Christmas as a child. She was fascinated by wrapping paper and bows and it was too bad that she tried to eat most of them." Greg stated as a scene of Catherine pulling a bow out of Lindsey's mouth came on the screen. 

Catherine looked down at the floor, and when she looked back up, it was another scene. She was at the lab again sitting out in the corridor talking to what looked to be a four year old Lindsey. Eddie was coming in with a big wrapped box and placed it down at Catherine's feet. She handed the bow to Lindsey and then continued to open it with excitement, but the clip changed again to the following year's Christmas, which consisted of her, and Lindsey at home watching Rudolph. 

Sara turned to Catherine, "Do you see what you're missing?"

"Hmm?" Catherine turned to her, "What am I missing?" 

Sara sighed as the video of Catherine and Lindsey continued to play. "_This_. The warm feeling you get when someone shows his or her love for you. When was the last time you sat with Lindsey?"

"I don't remember." Catherine said meekly. 

"You can't let these instances slip away. She's not going to be this age forever. You have to cherish these moments and take them when they are handed to you. If not, they'll slip away." 

Sara turned back to look at the screen, and Catherine followed suit. The shot of Catherine's living room changed to Grissom's office. He sat on the edge of his desk flipping through his list of contacts. 

Catherine leaned over, "I'm supposed to remember all of these instances in my life, right?" She whispered.

"Yeah." Sara whispered back. "Why are we whispering…?" she trailed off, before Catherine cut her off. 

"I don't remember this one." Catherine stated and looked back at the screen. 

Sara now appeared in Grissom's door way. "Do you have a minuet?" Sara asked. 

Sara, the one sitting next to Catherine, went pale. "GREG!" she screamed. 

"What now?" he cried and stuck his head back through the window.

"This isn't Catherine's life either!"

"You told me to get clips of people neglecting to take chances!" Greg shot back. "This is one of those instances!" 

"What is this?" Catherine asked, staring intently at the Screen. 

"I was just leaving." Grissom was saying to Sara. 

"Sara, when did this happen?" Catherine turned to the frantic Sara who was not standing on her chair. 

"Greg, don't make me come up there! Change the scene! Mute it! Do _something_!" she cried. 

Catherine tugged on Sara's dress, "No, I want to see this!" 

"No you _don't_." Sara reassured her. 

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Sara, on screen, asked a now stunned Grissom. 

Catherine's eyes went wide. "You asked him _out_?" 

"Hey, I want to see what happens too!" Greg called out from his booth. 

"That's it!" Sara raised her hands into the air and snapped. The lights went off in the theater along with the projection. 

"Hey!" Greg wailed. "My movie!" 

Sara huffed and sat back down in her seat. 

"What did Grissom say?" Catherine rose.

Sara shot her a nasty look. "Is that all you have to ask right now? How about what happened in _your_ life, not what happened in mine?"  

"Why must we dwell on my past?" Catherine pouted crossing her hands across her chest. 

"Did you not get the point of any of that?" Sara asked, the tension in her voice rising with the word. "Catherine, I'm trying to show you what your life once was like. I can tell you, it's not like that any more. Don't you want to go back to the happier times?"

"And how am I supposed to do that?" she asked leaning forward in her chair. "How am I supposed to forget everything that has happened and mover on to other things? Sara, a lot has happened in my life, and I just want to move on, forget about everything back then."

Sara stood up and sighed. "You past is part of what makes you who you are. You do have to move on, but you just can't forget what happened."

"Digging up your past only gets you dirty." Catherine replied coldly.

"But if you don't bury your past in the first place, it leaves an open grave. And that is an open grave that you might fall into later." Sara raised her hands. "Come on Greg. Pleasant dreams Catherine."  Sara snapped her fingers once, and everything went black. 

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	3. The Ghost Of Christmas Present

Thanks for the reviews; they keep my writing spirits up!

And now I must send out a very special thanks to Grav for betaing this story. Thanks a million times. :-)

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**DING**

Catherine, who was tangled up in the comforter on the bed, fell onto the floor with a thud. She sat straight up then, and looked around the room. 

"Sara?" she called out. There was no answer. 

**DING**

Catherine got to her feet and placed the comforter back on the bed. She knew that she was back in her own house, but how had she gotten here? The last thing that she could remember was Sara being really pissed off at her, and then everything went dark. Catherine scratched her head. This was giving her a headache. 

The clock in the room flashed 2:02am. She knew that there was no use in climbing back into bed, because more than likely she would have to get back up in a matter of minutes. Instead, Catherine grabbed her bathrobe from off one of the chairs in the room and made her way towards the room where Lindsey lay asleep. 

Catherine pushed open the door to see her little girl still fast asleep. Catherine was a little surprised at this because Sara had come bargaining into her house and Lindsey slept through the whole thing. That had been at least an hour ago though, and Lindsey would have fallen back asleep in no time, Catherine reminded herself. 

"TOUCHDOWN!"

Catherine out of shock stumbled forward at the loud scream and banged her head into Lindsey's door. Lindsey shifted in her sleep and rolled over onto her side, but didn't wake up. Catherine rubbed the spot that had just come in contact with the door. She could feel it swelling…and what had been that cry anyway? 

Backing out of the room and then shutting the door, Catherine made her way down the hallway. A dim light came from the other end, with muffled sounds of many voices. 

"Hello?" Catherine peeked around the corner to see the television turned on to some football game. Looking around the room and seeing no one, Catherine walked forward and clicked the TV off.  

"Hey, I was watching that." 

Catherine jumped five feet in the air at the sound and spun around to look at where the voice had come from. She peered into the kitchen to see the refrigerator open. 

"You know, Catherine, you don't have any eggs left." Nick's head appeared, "I was planning on making some eggnog." 

Finally getting her heart to slow down, Catherine took a deep breath. "Nick, what are you doing here?" 

"I was watching the game," He replied and shut the door, "But I guess I'm not anymore." He cocked his head in the direction of the TV set, and it clicked back on. Nick smiled broadly. Catherine turned to look at TV. Sure enough, the football game was back on. 

Nick made his way over to the couch and sat back down. Grissom hadn't looked like Grissom, and Sara hadn't looked like Sara, but Nick sure looked like Nick, except for the cowboy hat and boots. He threw his feet up onto the coffee table, and more than likely damaged it as his metal spurs scratched against the table.

"What are you doing here?" Catherine asked again, grabbing the bathrobe and pilling it tighter around her body. It sure was cold in her house right now, and the fact that it looked like Nick had cleared out her freezer didn't add to the problem. He reached forward and picked up one of the cartons of ice cream that he had obviously gotten in one of his trips raiding Catherine's fridge.  

Nick stuck a spoonful of vanilla in his mouth. "Catherine," he said as he chewed, "I'm the ghost of Christmas Present." 

Catherine nodded her head. She walked over and took a seat on the chair next to the couch. "Are you going to make me watch a football game?" she asked motioning towards the TV. 

"Oh no," Nick said. He took one of the napkins off the table and wiped his face, "I was just passing time. Now that you're here we can go." 

"Why are you all doing this?" Catherine asked from her seat. Nick stood up and took the ice cream containers into his hands. He looked a bit shorter to Catherine tonight, and the plaid red shirt that he wore didn't help. 

"Doing what?" Nick called over his shoulder as he opened the freezer and more cold air escaped into the room. Catherine shivered and then picked up the remaining container and walked over to place that in the icebox. 

"This." Catherine pointed at him, "Doing this thing with me. And why are you all dressed so funny?" 

Nick narrowed his eyes. "I am not dressed funny." He said coldly. "We were allowed to pick what we wanted to wear." 

Catherine shrugged, "Whatever. So, are we going to get this little trip done and over with? It might be nice to get a little sleep tonight."

"Yeah, Sara said that you weren't in the best of moods." Catherine scowled at him as he walked over and picked up the remote control off the table. "Hold that bathrobe tight, it's going to be cold." Nick held the remote out in front of him and pressed the on button, followed by the play button. 

The room around Catherine began to swirl. She gripped her bathrobe tighter as cold air began to blow around her. She couldn't see Nick anywhere in front of her, and she hoped that this experience would be better than the one that she had had with Sara. Catherine shut her eyes so she wouldn't become nauseated. 

"You can open your eyes now." Nick said, placing a hand on Catherine's shoulder. She jumped at the touch and slowly opened her eyes. 

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around the Vegas landscape. They were in a suburban area that Catherine had never seen before. It reminded her of her own neighborhood. 

"Warrick's house." Nick replied. He began to walk up the walkway towards the house. 

"Warrick owns a house?" she asked following behind him. 

"There's lots of stuff you don't know about him. There's a lot of stuff you don't know about all of us." Nick's spurs clicked as he walked up the concrete stairs. When he got to the top, he turned around. "Are you coming?" Catherine had stopped at the first step, not really wanting to go up and see what Warrick was up to. She wrinkled her nose, and then made her way up to join Nick. 

Peering in through the glass of the front door, Catherine couldn't see anything. She took her bathrobe sleeve and wiped the glass trying to get a clearer image of the inside of Warrick's house, but that didn't do anything. She squinted. "Nick, I can't see Warrick."

"He's not in there yet." Nick leaned back against the metal railing and folded his hands cross his chest. "Here he comes now." Nick looked down the walkway that they had just come up, and Catherine turned to look in that direction, too. Since it was the middle of night, Catherine couldn't see a thing, but she could hear Warrick's deep voice.

"Thanks for helping me man, it's just not Christmas without a tree." Warrick was saying. 

"Anytime. Glad I could be of service." 

"Who is he talking to?" Catherine whispered to Nick.

"You can talk louder you know." Nick said removing his cowboy hat so Catherine could actually see his face. "They can't see, or hear, us." 

Catherine turned back to see Warrick coming down the street now, carrying a Christmas tree in his hands. It was big a bulky though, and Warrick obviously wasn't carrying it by himself. Turning, Warrick began to make his way down the sidewalk and Catherine got on her tippy-toes to peer over the tree to see who was carrying the other end. 

"Is that…Greg?" Catherine asked a little confused. "He's just all over the place, isn't he?" 

Nick gave Catherine a look and shook his head. "It's called being social, Catherine."

The two of them carrying the Christmas tree make their way up to the stairs. Slowly and steadily, the two of them began to make their way up. Catherine made a motion to move out of their way, but Nick grabbed her arm. 

"They won't notice us." 

Warrick ascended onto the top step, and dug into his pocket for the key. Opening the door, he continued on his way with he Greg carrying the tree.

"Ah, so Warrick is safe and sound now, can I go home?" Catherine asked turning away from Nick and made he way back down the stairs. 

"We're not leaving yet." Nick moved to the window and stuck his face in one of the panes. He beckoned for Catherine to follow suit.  She reluctantly walked forward and stuck her face in the window also. 

Warrick's house was nice, she had to give him that. It was decorated like a posh bachelor's pad with deep colors and dim lights. Catherine wondered why she had never been over here considering the fact that it obviously looked like Warrick shopped at Pier One and they both could have swapped furniture if they really wanted to. Warrick and Greg were still trying to get the tree across the room to where Warrick had cleared a spot, when the faintest dog bark sounded. 

Catherine spun around expecting to see a dog come running up to Warrick's front door.  Nick poked her in the side, and as she turned around to smack him in the head, she noticed that he was looking in the window. Catherine peered in only to see a small terrier come running in from the next room. The dog darted across the floor and ran to Warrick.  

"Whoa, down Muffy." He said, patting the dog's head. "There'll be time to play later." The dog retreated and began to sniff Greg's feet. 

Catherine was slightly confused, "Warrick has a dog?" she stammered.

"I told you that there was a lot you didn't know about him." Nick replied unenthusiastically.

"And he named it _Muffy_?" Catherine continued. She never would have thought that Warrick would own a dog _and _that he would name it Muffy. Catherine was still contemplating this when Nick poked her again. She shot him another look, and then gazed through the glass window again.  

"There." Greg sat his end of the tree down in the stand and stood back. Warrick balanced his end making sure that it was straight and then stepped back also. "Isn't it a little late to deck the halls?" Greg wiped the sap from his hands on his pants. 

"I always had a Christmas tree growing up and I don't want that tradition to die. Beer?" Warrick walked out of the room to emerge a moment later with two cold Bud Lights. Greg took one. 

"No lights this year, though. I think it looks fine as it is." Warrick popped the top off of his and began to drink. 

Greg cocked his head and looked at the tree, then opened his drink. "Eh, whatever floats your boat." Taking a step back, Greg made himself comfy on the couch as Warrick poked at the tree. He wanted to make sure it looked just right. Sure, he and Greg might be the only one to actually see it, but he still wanted it to look nice. 

"Did you talk to Nick before you came? Is he going to come over and watch the _Nightmare Before Christmas_ with us?" Warrick asked stepping back to take the tree in for all its glory. It was a nice tree. 

Greg shook his head. "He said he had something to do, but he still wants us at his house tomorrow." 

"See what I'm missing to be with you?" Nick whispered to Catherine. "I could be in there drinking beer and watching Tim Burton movies, but instead I'm leading you around Vegas." 

"I would rather have you in there, too, Nick." Catherine patted his shoulder. "I didn't know that you and Greg were such good friends."  

Nick straightened himself up and leaned against the raining again. "Catherine, we're kind of like one big happy family." Catherine looked over her shoulder at him, and then took his space at the window. Warrick had gone over to his TV and flipped it on.  

"We're all in Vegas alone, so we kind of cling to each other, with the exception of you that is." Warrick had just popped the DVD in and was now making himself comfy on the couch with Muffy in his lap. 

"We see each other just about every waking day, so why wouldn't we become good friends?" Catherine still couldn't get over the fact that Warrick had a dog. Why had he never told her about that? 

"Catherine? Earth to Catherine?" 

Catherine blinked and came out of her daze. "What?" 

"Were you not listening to what I just said?" Nick asked, he pushed off the railing and walked down the steps. 

"Hmm?" 

"Say bye to Warrick and Greg." Nick called from the walkway. "We've got more people to see."

"You haven't made your point by showing them to me?" Catherine asked as she walked down the steps. "I see that I should be more friendlier with Warrick and then maybe he'll let Lindsey play with Muffy." 

"God, sometimes the little things are wasted on you." Nick shook his head and stuck his hands into his pokers. He turned away from Catherine and began to walk down the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" Catherine called from her spot. Was Nick expecting her to walk to their next destination?

"Sara's." he said simple. 

"How far is it?" Catherine wished that she wasn't wearing slippers.

"About two miles." 

Catherine grumbled to herself and began to trail after Nick.  

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"Took you long enough." Nick was leaning up against a lamppost as Catherine came dragging her feet down the footpath. 

"You…didn't…tell…me…that we had to…walk…clear…across Vegas." she panted and leaned up against the post herself. 

"You didn't tell me that you aren't a power walker." Nick replied back and left Catherine to catch her breath. They were now standing in front of an apartment complex that loomed over all of the other buildings around them.

"Sara…lives here?" Catherine was just beginning to catch her breath and joined Nick up at the building's door. 

"Yup. Prime retail if you ask me. She can see the strip from her living room." Nick replied as he pressed the intercom button. "Stokes and guest for apartment R47." 

 "Why am I the guest?" Catherine complained taking walking through the open door.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"You're admitting that you have?" Catherine looked around the foyer. It was nice, very classy and just about the last place she would expect Sara to live. There was a little sitting area in one of the corners with big comfy leather chairs and soft piano music was piped into the room from somewhere. It seemed like a lot-key hotel almost, and Catherine would have spent the entire time looking around, but Nick had already gotten an elevator. Catherine heard it beep and she went running cross the tile floor to catch it before Nick left without her. She slid in between the doors just as they were closing. Nick shook his head.

"What?" Catherine asked, placing her hands on her hips. 

"Nothing." He reached forward and pressed the button with a giant 8 on it, and the elevator began to move up. 

"Does Sara know that we are coming?" Catherine asked breaking the awkward silence. She was watching the elevator move from one floor up to the next. There were little lights above the door and when you reached the next floor, the little light would blink different colors, and this fascinated Catherine. 

"No, but then again we aren't going to knock on her door and have her let us in…Catherine?" Nick looked over to see her wide-eyed staring at the lights. 

"Yeah?" she replied not taking her eyes off one of them that was flashing green and yellow signifying that they were on the seventh floor now. 

"And I thought I had a short attention span." Nick mumbled. 

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Nick walked out first, and then had to turn around and grab Catherine who didn't seem to want to move. She reluctantly followed Nick done one of the halls of the eight floor-passing door after door on both sides. Finally, Nick stopped in front of one of them at the end of the hall. 

"You open it." he said and took a step back so Catherine was now directly in front of the door that read R47. 

Catherine turned around to face Nick. "I would hope that Sara locks her doors, Nick." 

"Just do it, okay?" he edged her on. Catherine shrugged her shoulders and put her hand on the doorknob. It was cold. She twisted it, and the door opened. 

"Go in." Nick said, "I'll wait out here." He leaned back against the wall next to Sara's apartment. Catherine was a little confused by this act, but didn't bother to ask why Nick wasn't going to accompany her in. Catherine walked through the door leaving Nick on the outside. 

Sara's apartment was dark, and not just because there weren't any lights on. Her countertops were a shiny black and her walls were a dark color that Catherine couldn't make out in this kind of dim lighting. She was temped to flick on the lights, but then she realized that they might not be the best thing to do right now. 

Instead, Catherine made her way across the kitchen and into what she guessed was Sara's living room. That was dark also, except for one lit candle in the corner that smelled like gingerbread. Catherine walked over to it, it seemed strange and out of place. And where was Sara? She wouldn't leave a lit candle burning while she went to work, or would she? 

A noise from the other side of the room caught Catherine's attention and she turned to see a door fly open, and Sara come waking out with a book in hand. Her hair was wet and she wore what Catherine guessed were her pajamas. Sara didn't notice Catherine standing there in her bathrobe at all and walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and then came over to the couch and plopped herself down. Sara brought her knees up onto the couch with her and opened her book. 

Catherine found this whole act very boring, and decided to explore the rest of Sara's house. She turned out of the living room and walked down a narrow hallway that led into Sara's bedroom. Catherine just stuck her head in there, not wanting to snoop too much and for fear of what she might find in there. For all she knew, Hank's dead body could be hidden in the closet. 

The door that Sara had come through looked interesting and Catherine opened that door to find a small study with a desk and computer. The room was littered with books of all sorts in no organized matter and random papers scattered all over the place. Catherine had never expected Sara to be a messy person. Having her curiosity get the best of her, Catherine reached down and picked up a few of the papers off of the floor.

"Ways you can die from over exposure to the sun…Top ten deadly foods that most of us eat every day…Tap water? I wouldn't…" Catherine read the headings on all of the papers. Sara was always known to have random facts, but Catherine just assumed that she had gotten those from the Snapple caps. "Most common signs that one is mentally insane…Reasons for one to pass away at age twenty five…Is he sending you mixed signals? How to tell if he is really into you ." Catherine stopped at this last one, and dropped the rest of the papers to the ground. "Mixed signals?" she asked aloud, and scanned the article. She could only wonder why Sara had something pertaining to this. 

Catherine ventured out into the hall way again and back into the living room. She was still trying to figure out why Nick had brought her here. What was he trying to show her with this? Catherine stopped short when she realized that Sara had deserted the couch and was now pacing back and forth across the room. She looked worried and held the cordless phone tightly in her hand. Catherine could see that Sara was silently muttering to herself about something, but Catherine couldn't hear. 

Sara then halted, and took a deep breath. Without even looking at the number pad, Sara began to dial a number. "Hello?" Sara brought the phone to her ear, and took a seat on the couch again. 

"Hi…I saw that you had called…yeah, I just got home a little while ago…"Catherine knew that Sara couldn't see her, so she took a few steps forward so she was just inches away from Sara sitting on the couch. 

"Nothing…I was planning on going to bed in a little while…no, I've gotten used to Christmas alone." Sara wore a blank expression on her face as she conversed on the phone. Catherine could only speculate who she was talking to. 

"So I see that you're not doing anything either…lonely? No, I'm just…" Sara trailed off then, not finishing her sentence. Catherine waited for her to go on, but she didn't. Instead, she put the phone back up to her ear, "I've got to go." She said shortly and clicked the phone off. Sara placed the phone down on the couch, stood up and left the room.

Catherine was quite tempted to pick the phone back up and hit 'redial' but it was at that moment that Nick came waltzing into the room. "Learn anything?" he asked, leaning against the counter. He looked so out of place in his western getup. 

"Can I say that Sara suffers from schizophrenia?" she asked.

"You're more of a schizoid that she is." Nick quipped back. Catherine scowled. "Oh come on, you were in her house for many five minutes and you witnessed one phone call. Don't tell me that you have learned nothing and something at the same time." 

Catherine just looked confused and exited Sara's apartment. "Well, that was fun Nick, but I really must be getting home," she said walking towards the elevator. 

"But we've still got two more people to visit." 

"Two?" Catherine asked as she entered the elevator. The little lights began to blink as the descended to the ground floor. 

"Two. Onto Grissom." Nick departed the elevator and walked across the foyer to the door. "His house isn't that far, really." 

"Do we have to go see Grissom?" Catherine whined. "I can tell you exactly what he is doing, he's sitting at home with his classical opera blaring and reading some National Geographic magazine while eating Oodles of Noodles."

"We're here." Nick stopped short, and Catherine waked right into him. 

"What?" Catherine stammered back and looked over. Sure enough, they were now in front of Grissom's town house. "But…Sara lives over there." Catherine pointed to the direction that they had just come. They were maybe five hundred feet away now. "They live this close together?" 

"The new things you learn every day." He stated and walked up the stairs to Grissom's front door. Nick opened it up and motioned for Catherine to follow. 

Grissom's house was the only one out of everyone's house that she had visited before tonight. She hadn't been over there a whole lot, but she certainly knew her way around. Every now and then Grissom invited her over for Pasta and she would bring Lindsey and he would show her butterflies and Catherine would be happy seeing her little girl fascinated by the insects. Catherine was also over there the time that Grissom had ordered Sara's plant, and she could still remember sitting on his couch while he made the phone call. After he had gotten off, she had laughed for a good while and the fact that he had wrote 'From Grissom' at the end of the card. 

The town house was dark, just like Sara's. Nick waked in, and Catherine followed close behind him. "Why are we here?" she asked, staring into the darkness. 

"To see Grissom." Nick replied. 

"I thought he was dead."

"Who told you that?"

"Grissom."

" Now _you_ really are a schizoid."

"Not funny."

Nick stopped in the middle of the floor and motioned for Catherine to go over into Grissom's sitting area. She walked over to see Grissom lying with his feet up on the couch and a magazine in hand. With all of this Catherine could only wonder why none of her co-workers were in bed. If she had been home, she would certainly be fast asleep, so why where they all up and about setting up Christmas trees and watching movies and reading books and making phone calls? This was a little strange for her. 

Catherine noted that Grissom had his cell phone next to him on the couch, and every few seconds he glanced over at it as if waiting for it to ring. After a few more moments of this, Grissom finally picked up the phone and flipped it open. He dialed a number. 

"Hello? Oh, that's okay, I understand…" Grissom sat up on the couch and swiveled his feet around the side. Catherine walked to the other side of the couch so she could get a better view of him. 

"I was just wondering what you're doing…of course I'm curious, I always have been…I just don't want anyone to be alone over the holidays…yes, I know I'm alone too…" Catherine studied Grissom's face. He seemed to be happy with whomever he was talking to, and she could see his mouth beginning to curl up into a smile. 

"Are you okay?…do you want to come over and…hangout? Sorry, that was the best term to use…yeah, I haven't done this for a while…If you're tired you should go to bed…okay, I guess I'll see you tomorrow." Grissom clicked his cell phone shut with a sigh. He looked sad now, and Catherine wished that she could talk to him. Instead, he moved his feet back up onto the couch and picked up his magazine again. 

"Do you get what's happening?" Nick asked from his position in the kitchen. Catherine made her way over to him, and shook her head. Nick grumbled and exited Grissom's house and Catherine followed suit.

But when the two of them made it outside, they were no longer in front of Grissom's house. They were in front of the Rampart. Catherine stopped short. 

"Come on Catherine, its not that bad." Nick urged her on, but Catherine didn't want to move. 

"How do you know about this?" Catherine asked weakly as Nick grabbed her arm and led her through the door.

"The whole world knows, Catherine." He led her through the casino and to one of the back elevators. Up the two of them went to the top floor and when the two doors opened, Nick made no motion to move. 

"You're going all alone on this one." He said and folded his hands across his chest. 

Catherine bit her lip, and walked out onto the top floor. She had been here before of course but hoped that her last time would have been her last visit here. She knew where she was going of course, and slowly made her way down the red hallway towards Sam's office. The door was open and Catherine walked right in.  

Sam's office was not a welcoming place. His long desk sat at one end of the room and the tall chair that he sat in was turned away from the doorway. No music played in the room and not a sound could be heard, not even from the Las Vegas nightlife. Catherine made her way gradually across the carpet and came to stand in font of Sam's desk.  It was then that she noticed the pictures there. There was one of her as a little girl, one of Lindsey and then one of Catherine, Eddie and Lindsey together. How did Sam get these pictures? She wondered picking one of them up. Lindsey looked old in the picture so it was fairly recent. 

Catherine sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Sam?" she called out, not knowing if he would hear here. "Sam?" she called again, leaning forward to try and peer around the desk. The chair turned slowly, but it reveled a vacant seat. Sam wasn't there. 

"Do you see the point, _now_?" Nick asked coming up behind her. 

"That Sam's at his ranch?" Catherine asked standing up. She walked over to the other side of the desk, there were more pictures there and she wanted to see them. 

"We're all alone in this world until we find someone else." Nick stated, coming over to stand next to Catherine. 

"Quite profound." Catherine picked up one of the pictures of her mother and Sam. It was an old time ago and she was surprised that he still had it. 

Nick cocked his jaw and turned to make his way towards the door, "You're never going to learn, are you?" 

"Learn what?" Catherine cried placing the picture back on the desk. "People can go through life alone, Nick!"

Nick just shook his head. "No they can't, they need support of some kind. If not, who's going to catch them when they fall?" he then reached into his pocket and pulled out the remote that Catherine had forgotten all about. Why had they not used that when walking from Warrick's house to Sara's? He aimed it at Catherine. 

"That's why they make sure that they don't fall." She said, getting ready to head back home. 

"Preaching the choir, Catherine. Sleep tight."  Nick clicked it on, and everything went black. 

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	4. The Ghost Of Christmas Yet to Come

Due to 'unforeseen circumstances' (also known as 'life'), this chapter is coming a little later than usual and I'm sorry for the slight delay. Thanks to all those who have reviewed and again to Grav for doing great beta work. 8-)

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**DING**

Catherine by now was accustomed to this strange chiming on the hour, every hour, and opened her eyes calmly. 

**DING**

Sighing, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed. 

**DING**

It was three in the morning and time for her last ghostly visitor. Catherine had a feeling it would be Warrick. Actually, Sara had told her to expect a visit from him, so she would have bet money that he was already sitting out in her living room. But before venturing out there, Catherine really had to make a pit stop in the bathroom. She didn't want to go out with Warrick looking like she had just rolled out of bed, which technically she had, but that was beside the point. 

When Catherine emerged ten minutes later feeling a whole lot better, she swore that she heard faint classical music. But that can't be, she thought, shaking her head.  The only stereo system was in her room and not out in the living area. And the music sounded like a piano piece, and Catherine didn't own any classical piano CDs. 

Walking into the kitchen and living area, Catherine discovered the source of the piano music. There was a piano sitting directly in her path, and it was a baby grand that took up about half of the floor.  It was playing a recognizable tune - _Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas to be specific - and Catherine soon found her self-humming along. She wasn't sure why though; she had never been the one to go for Christmas carols. But this rendition seemed different. It was soothing and relaxing, and for some strange reason Catherine got a warm and fuzzy feeling just listening to the tickling of the ivories. _

When it stopped, Catherine clapped. 

Warrick's head popped from behind the black instrument. "Thank you," he pulled the cover down over the keys, but didn't move from his spot. 

"I didn't know you could play." Catherine replied walking over to the bench. She took a seat next to him silently hoping that he was going to play something else.  Not Christmas music though, Catherine was hoping for some Billy Joel or even Elton John. 

There was a moment of uneasy silence between the two of them. Warrick had already pulled the cover down over the piano and wasn't about to start another performance, while Catherine sat there hoping that he would. She could hear that Warrick still had one of his feet on the pedals and was slowly moving it up and down. 

"I got you something." Warrick finally said and vacated his seat on the bench. 

Catherine's face lit up, "Really?" She was secretly hoping for a three hundred dollar purse. Warrick was known to buy those. He handed he a long and narrow package, wrapped up with red paper and tied with a bow. Catherine furiously ripped through the paper wanting to see what's inside. 

"Sara and Nick both said you needed some." Warrick commented when Catherine had gotten all of the paper off. 

Catherine looked down and scowled at the package in her lap. It was a carton of eggs. "Do you really think I need these?" she said waving the carton round in the air.  

"I wouldn't do that. I already had to clean up your spilled tea, and I don't want to be mopping those up too." He pointed over towards the coffee table and Catherine noted that the spill was gone. 

"Thanks," she grumbled and put the eggs up onto the counter. "Are we going to go now?"

"You're actually looking forward to your future, Catherine?" 

Catherine shrugged, "Why not?" 

Coming over to stand next to her, Warrick put his arm around her shoulder. "You're future is a very tricky thing.  It's always changing no matter what you do to stop it. Things that you did yesterday affect what you are doing now, and things that you haven't even begun to contemplate will ultimately affect you also."

"Contemplate?" Catherine asked aloud. Warrick ignored the question and steered her towards the door. 

"No one knows for certain what the future will hold, and what I am about to show you is not set in stone, okay? All of this can be altered by something as small as what you eat for breakfast tomorrow or even what kind of Starbucks coffee you get on your way to work." 

Catherine nodded her head as Warrick and her walked out to his waiting Denali. She was now a little anxious; Warrick was making a big point out of telling her that all of this could be changed, but what happens if she likes what she is about to see? All of this confused Catherine as Warrick started up the car and began to drive away from the residential area, out onto The Strip. 

"This is your future, Catherine." He said as they drove along. "Seven years from now, to be exact. I don't want anything to alarm you, okay?"

"Everything looks the same," Catherine noted as they drove along past the casinos looming over the car.  Warrick didn't reply though, but Catherine could see him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Warrick certainly looked like Warrick. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a dark blue button down shirt, with most of the buttons unbuttoned. Catherine didn't mind that fashion statement at all.  

"I'm taking you to the lab," Warrick said breaking the silence that had fallen over the car. It wasn't like Catherine had a choice as to where they were going, but Warrick wanted to make it seem like she did. 

"Is there something different at the lab?" she asked, turning to him. They pulled into the parking lot and he parked the car without replying. 

Catherine stepped out of the car and shut the door behind her. There wasn't anything that jumped out at her and screamed, "I'm different!" as far as she could see, but why would Warrick take her here to show her the boring tedious routine that she knew all too well? If Warrick was trying to prove to Catherine that her life wasn't going to get any more exciting, she already knew that. Catherine was bored with her life even now, so what exactly was Warrick going to demonstrate? 

The first thing Catherine noticed as she entered the lab was that it was quiet; too quiet for a crime lab. Warrick stood in the door way as if to keep Catherine from running back outside. She turned around to look at him to confirm that the silence was supposed to be there. He just nodded his head and pushed her down the hallway slightly. 

Along with the silence, the lab seemed darker than it normally did. The dim blue lights had been dimmed even more and the occasional white light was nowhere to be found. Catherine continued down the hall past the receptionist desk and noted that Judy no longer sat there. She had always known that Judy never cared to work in a place with dead bodies and criminals, but Catherine never thought that she would leave. 

"The DNA lab," Catherine stopped in front of the glass window to gaze in hoping to catch a glimpse of Greg five years matured. Instead she found a young woman with short blonde hair bustling around inside. No loud rock music was playing, no bright colorful shirts and no wacky hairdos. 

"Greg didn't leave, did he?" She spun around to look at Warrick who had come up behind her. 

"No, he's still here." Warrick looked down towards the other end of the hallway. Catherine followed his gaze, which lead her to Grissom's office. Getting the hint, Catherine walked towards it. 

The door was open, and Catherine let herself in, but this was not the office that Catherine knew so well. There were no bugs, no rotting animal torsos in jars, no classical music, nothing that even hinted at it being Grissom's office. Instead there were picture frames darted around the room on shelves and a big stereo system in one of the corners. The desk was clean compared to Grissom's normal clutter and getting closer Catherine noted that the desk had been painted a dark shade of blue. Seeing this, Catherine realized that the whole room had been painted an assortment of colors. This was not Grissom's demeanor at all. 

Catherine turned to Warrick. He was standing next to the door looking at the nameplate there. GREG SANDERS was on the plaque instead of the familiar GIL GRISSOM.

"Whu?" Catherine stared at the sign with wide eyes. Way was this Greg's office? Grissom wasn't gone, was he? A shock wave of emotions suddenly rushed over here. Grissom's gone? And _Greg is running the lab?_

"A little hard to believe that five years ago we wouldn't even let him do field work," Warrick sighed. "Things do change quickly." 

"Why is Greg running the lab?" Catherine asked hurriedly. "Where's Grissom?" 

Warrick gulped, not certain he wanted to answer Catherine. 

Catherine just stared at him for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she went on, "Where's Grissom?" 

Warrick turned away,  "Grissom's dead." 

"No, he's not. I just saw him earlier." Catherine replied back. " I saw…"

"His ghost, Catherine."  Shaking his head, Warrick took a deep breath, "This is the future Catherine. You saw the dead Grissom _from_ the future, who came _back_ to warn you." 

Catherine made her way to one of the chairs in the room and sat down, "That doesn't make any sense." 

"It doesn't have to, that's just the way it is." Warrick shrugged. 

"But why is Greg running the lab? Why aren't you, or Nick, or even Sara?" Catherine cried. Warrick walked into the room now and over to a set of pictures on one of the shelves. 

"Greg really likes his picture." Warrick picked one up to look at it closer. 

"You're avoiding my question." Catherine huffed. 

"Here," Warrick handed Catherine the picture he was holding. "This is why Nick isn't running the lab."

Catherine took the picture and looked at it. It was of Nick out in the desert standing alone. He wasn't facing the camera but looking over the oilrig that loomed in the background of the photo. "What does this have to do with anything?" She wondered gazing up at Warrick. 

"Nick went back to Texas not long after…not long ago." Warrick said taking the picture back from Catherine. "And while he was there, he stumbled across some oil." 

"And?" Catherine still did not understand why this had anything to do with why Greg was running the lab. 

"Oil is _black gold_, Catherine. Nick's a millionaire now, and a very generous one at that. When he left he donated over three million dollars to the lab." Warrick placed the picture back up on the shelf. 

Catherine was lots for words once again and stared straight ahead trying to gather her thoughts as Warrick moved to the next picture. 

"I'm not running the lab because I'm…" Warrick picked up the photo not wanting to continue, but Catherine had to know. "Because I'm running the Rampart."

"Excuse me?" Catherine was taken aback by this confession from Warrick. "You're running the _what_?" 

"Please don't get mad, Sam had to leave it to someone." Warrick responded quickly, not wanting to get Catherine any more confused and/or mad than she already was. 

Catherine just gaped at Warrick for a moment, as he put down the picture. Catherine could see that it was he in the casino surrounded by all of the cocktail waitresses. 

"But why are _you_ running it?" She finally asked.

"It's a long story, Catherine." Warrick sighed.

"I think I've got time." She said crossing her legs and then her arms across her chest.  "And where is Sara?"

"Sara's on the FBI's ten most wanted list." 

It was at this that Catherine lost all ability to form words. She opened her mouth a couple of times to speak, but nothing but a dull moan came out instead. She sat there, staring at Warrick who stared right back. 

"Sara…is on the…FBI's _ten most wanted list_?" she finally spat out a minuet later. 

"She has been for five years." Warrick turned away. 

"What could she have done? Did she kill Grissom?" Catherine said with a laugh.  

"Yes." Warrick replied from over his shoulder. 

"What?" Catherine jumped out of her seat and walked over to stand next to him. "Sara _killed _Grissom?" 

"None of us are absolutely certain considering the fact that she disposed of most of the evidence. We believe that it was a 'lover's quarrel' and Sara fled the scene before Nick and I showed up." 

"I don't know what to say." Catherine replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Where was I thought all of this?"

Warrick, at this, turned back to face her. He then reached over and picked up a frame that sat on a shelf all by itself and he handed it to her. Catherine looked down at the photo with Grissom, Sara, Warrick, Nick, Greg and Brass all dressed in black. She noticed Lindsey clutching one of Brass's legs and staring solemnly down at the coffin resting in front of them. 

 "It's your funeral." Warrick said softly. 

Catherine dropped the picture frame and it shattered as it hit the ground. She took a step back and grabbed the doorframe for support. "What?" she mustered out. 

"Every cause has its effect." Warrick replied, still speaking in whispers. "If you ruffle enough feathers sooner or later the rooster is going to come and get his revenge." 

Catherine still gripped the frame for support as he breathing became quicker and her heart raced. 

"You blew up at a suspect, who was then set free. You claimed that you were going to put him behind bars even if it was the last thing you do. You then forgot about the whole incident and went onto a crime scene a week later. We were all there. You and I were processing some tire tracks out on the street when a black car drove by. It all happened so fast…" Warrick trailed off remembering the incident. 

"I was killed in a drive by?" Catherine said with a deep breath,

"No, the guy had horrible aim and shot into the frame of the house instead. You, though, were quite enraged at this and got into your Denali and drove after them. Everyone came running out of the house but it was too late, you were already long gone."

"Please, no more," Catherine panted out. She could feel herself slowly slipping off the chair. 

"I have to go on," Warrick replied grabbing her shoulder. "You have to know. You drove after them and it began to rain. The chase went on for some ten miles and then your car swerved just off the strip. You hit a fence and your car went into the waterway. By the time we caught up to you, you were already gone."

Catherine looked up at him, "What…what did you tell Lindsey?" 

"We didn't want to tell her anything. How would she feel knowing that both her mother and father died in the same spot?" 

It was at this that Catherine lost it. She stumbled forward and Warrick just barely caught her. She thought she was going to pass out and desperately needed to lie down. Warrick put her down in the chair and bent down in front of her. 

"After that, we all seemed to relapse into depression. After a fight with Grissom one day, Nick went back to Texas and struck oil. He came back to collect his things and left a check for the lab. Grissom was here late one night trying to determine what to get with the grant he had given us when Sara came in. Sara and Grissom began to fight, and before we knew it she had strangled him. Sara ran off and hasn't been seen since.  Lindsey was supposed to go and live with Grissom, but that wouldn't be possible any more. She came and stayed with me for a while, and that's when Sam died. I discovered that he had left me as his benefactor in his will, and so what was once his was now mine. I wasn't about to sell that, so I took control of it, and Lindsay went to live with Brass." 

"Where is she now?" Catherine could feel the slight tears beginning to well up in her eyes.  

"They moved to Chicago after the papers were finalized." Warrick replied.

"What papers?"

"Brass decided to adopt Lindsey. Every now and then we hear from them. I guess Brass is back working at a police station out there and has Lindsey enrolled in a private school." Warrick dipped his head and took a deep breath. He knew that Catherine still wanted to know more. 

"Sam was never acknowledged as Lindsey's grandfather, so he wrote me into his will." 

"But why?" Catherine pleaded needing to know the truth. 

"People take drastic actions when they need to get things done. Who was Sam going to leave the casino to?" 

Catherine gazed at the floor refusing to make eye contact. Her face felt hot and her palms were sweaty. 

"Sam and I had gotten to know each other. He finally talked you into taking Lindsey down to see him, and often times I came with you for moral support. We stuck up a friendship because of our love for gambling." Warrick reached forward and grabbed one of Catherine's hands. She looked up at him, still befuddled. 

"The accident happened Christmas eve." Warrick said, "You chose to work instead of staying home with Lindsay. Everything else happened in the following week, and before Sunday had rolled around Greg was in charge of the lab. He was the most qualified, and there was no one else to do it."

Catherine shut her eyes tight, not wanting to open them back up. It seemed that all of this mêlée had spawned from what she had done. Cause and effect, just like Warrick had said. "Warrick…" she started and opened her eyes, but Warrick was no longer in the room. Catherine swiveled to look out the doorway and down the hall, but she couldn't see Warrick there either. She could hear footsteps approaching but it was not Warrick who appeared in the doorway, it was Greg. 

Greg stood in the doorway for a moment and then took a step in. Catherine noticed that he was wearing the same tie she had seen him in earlier that day at the lab, and she wasn't sure if she was happy to see that Greg was still in the holiday spirit, or sad to see that he hadn't bought a new tie yet. He looked sullen though he wore a smile on his face. Sitting down behind his desk, Greg leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. Catherine knew that Greg couldn't see her, but it hurt her to know that Greg was looking right through her. She so badly wanted to talk to him, just to say something to Greg. 

Catherine leaned forward getting a better look at the already aging Greg. He was only thirty-five and already looked like he has seen things that one shouldn't see until they are forty. Grissom had been this same way and started turning gray long before he should have. This hurt Catherine to see the once loud and wild Greg slowly claming down because of the wrinkles on his face. His hair was still spiky though, and Catherine let a small smile escape her lips. 

"Another year gone," Greg said to the empty room. He leaned forward and opened up one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out another one of his picture frames. "Another year gone." He said again softly as he placed the picture down on his desk. 

"Sanders," a young man, maybe in his twenties, stuck his head into the room, "The autopsy's ready." Greg slowly nodded his head and stood up. He made his way slowly towards the door and stepped out into the hallway, but then turned back around. Greg peered into the room as if sensing that something was different in there because of Catherine's unnoted presence. But he shook his head and walked down the hall with his hands in his pockets, not turning back again. 

"Greg got married three years ago." Warrick called from behind Catherine. She jumped and spun around to face him. Warrick leaned up against a filing cabinet in the office and opened one of the draws. 

"A nice girl, I've met her a couple of times. They had a little girl about a year ago." 

Catherine could feel this information tugging on her heart, "Greg's a dad?" 

"The girl's name is Allie." Warrick handed her a file folder that he had taken out of the drawer. Catherine took it into her hands and looked at the cover, it was blank. 

"Greg never did have the heart to actually file it away." 

Slowly opening it up, Catherine looked down at what the first paper said. _Willows, Catherine_ was written in big letters across the top. 

"Warrick, I can't do this," she begged. She couldn't look at the case file for her incident. But Warrick wasn't there anymore. She was in the dark room, the room that she once knew so well, alone. Her vision began to blur a little, and before she knew it, she was standing in the darkness. 

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	5. Christmas Day

Here's the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. 

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There was no more dinging. Catherine opened her eyes just to open her eyes. Sitting up on the couch she glanced at the clock across the room. It read 9:08 a.m. 

Getting off the couch now, Catherine walked to the front door and opened it wide. It was certainly morning outside. She could see the neighbor's kids across the street already playing in the front yard. 

Walking back into the middle of the room, Catherine scratched her head. Had last night really happened? She remembered it as if it was a dream, and it wasn't until Catherine noticed that the mug of teat still lay in the floor, but the spilled tea was long gone. Catherine then looked to the counter and noticed that there was a carton of eggs there. 

Suddenly, everything that had happened came rushing back to her. Sara and her watching home movies, Sam's empty office, the quiet lab…

Catherine knew what she had to do. First, she ran into her room and dug out all of the presents that she had for Lindsey and placed them around the tree in the living room. There wasn't a whole lot, so Catherine searched through the house looking for more things to give her daughter. Doing this, Catherine realized that she didn't have any presents for her colleagues because, of course, she was now going to head over to Nick's. Oh, they won't mind late gifts, Catherine thought as she searched though her closet for any signs of presents. 

Placing the last present (a my sized Barbie Catherine had really been saving for Lindsey' birthday) next to the lit up tree, Catherine stood back and admired the thing. How could she have ever hated this holiday? It was a time to be with friends and family and most of all the people she loved. What Sara, Nick and Warrick had shown her last night really opened her eyes. There wasn't anything Catherine could do about the past, but accept it and move on. The present might not be what Catherine wanted, but she had to embrace it for all it's worth. And the future doesn't have to be sad and depressing because of her actions today. This was here life, and she was going to set things on the right track.  

The only thing that still confused Catherine was the timeline of events. Catherine had gotten home from the lab at about five and fallen asleep not long after that. So, she had really only gotten about four hours of sleep, but that amount was good compared to other days. However, Sara had come at one, Nick at two and Warrick at three. Did she sleep through an entire day and not know it?  

"Mommy, what are you doing?" Lindsey came staggering out of her room rubbing her eyes. She looked at Catherine standing there surrounded by every last present in the house and wrinkled her nose. 

"It is Christmas, isn't it?" Catherine asked walking over to her daughter. She squatted down so that she was at eye level. Lindsey shook her head yes, and then looked at the presents in confusion. 

"I heard you and Mary talking last night." Lindsey said, "You sounded mad. I'm sorry for making cookies with her."

"Don't be sorry," Catherine said almost in a whimper, "I should be the one apologizing. We should have made cookies the beginning of the week. I'm sorry, Lindsey." At this the little girl's face lit up, realizing that her mom was not in a bad mood after all like she originally assumed. She looked longingly at the presents for a moment before Catherine gave her a little push and Lindsey ran head first into them tearing through wrapping paper and boxes.   

Catherine stepped back and watched in awe at her little girl. She smiled. How could she have been upset and depressed just the night before? She had a wonderful daughter, supportive friends and…

The phone rang. It was a little early for a Christmas call, but Catherine walked over and picked it up. 

"Hello?" she asked into her end. Lindsey from the other side of the room squealed finding a Lizzie McGuire tape.

"Catherine?" the voice said, "It's Sam."

At first, Catherine didn't know what to say. After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke. "Hi Sam." She replied taking the phone over to the couch and settling down to see Lindsey open up another Barbie doll. 

"I just wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas." Sam replied. He sounded a little sad like he knew that his granddaughter was opening presents and he wasn't there to witness it. 

"Thanks." Catherine replied, twirling the cord around her finger. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry. I've been really cold lately towards you and I think that's because of everything I'm going through right now."

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it, Mugs. I know things have been a little stressful lately. I'm used to being beat on by people."

"Aren't we all?" Catherine had to hamper down a stiff laugh. She paused for a moment, still mulling over her next move. "Sam?" She asked, and took a deep breath. "Are you doing anything tomorrow? Lindsey might get a kick out of seeing your ranch all dressed up for the holidays."

Catherine could almost hear Sam smiling through the phone. "I'll see you around lunch time." He responded, they said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. 

"Lindsey, come here," Catherine beckoned for her daughter to come over to her, and when she did Catherine drew her into a hug. "I'm sorry if I haven't been a good mommy lately. A lot of stuff has happened in the last year and it has been hard to cope with.  You know that I always love you, right?"

Lindsey shook her head, "Of course I know, mommy. You always tell me so." 

Catherine smiled and let go of her daughter who went bounding across the room to play with the rest of her toys. Getting up off of the couch, Catherine walked into the kitchen and took the carton of eggs off of the counter. She was going to need the whole thing of them if she was going to make some eggnog. 

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"Do you want to get the door?" Nick called from his kitchen. He and Greg were in there preparing the turkey while Sara, Warrick and Grissom sat in the other room waiting for the meal to be served. They were still expecting Brass, and maybe even an appearance from Doc later. 

Warrick got up off of the couch and made his way to the door, Muffy at his feet. He gazed through the peephole at the person standing on the other side. "It's Catherine." He said out of confusion, turning back to look at Grissom on the couch. "I thought you said that she wasn't coming."

"She said that she was working today," Grissom said glancing over at Sara who sat on the couch next to him. He secretly wanted to go over there and join her, and now that Warrick had his back turned to them, he believed that this would be the perfect time to make his move. 

The door swung open. "Hi Catherine, Lindsey." Warrick said bending down to say hi to the little girl, "What made you change your mind, Scrooge?" he stood back up and Lindsey ran under his arm chasing Muffy across the floor. 

"I'm sorry that I've been a Scrooge." Catherine replied, stepping into the room and shut the door. "Things just haven't been easy."

"Well, I'm glad you changed your mind." Warrick looked down the hallway towards where Lindsay and the dog had just run.  "That's Muffy that Lindsey is chasing." Warrick added and then took the pitcher of eggnog from her hands. 

"I know." Catherine replied, not giving the topic another thought. 

"How do you know?" Warrick questions as he lead her into the kitchen. 

Realizing her mistake, Catherine shrugged her shoulders, "Little bird told me?"

Nick looked up from the turkey and smiled when he saw the pitcher or eggnog in Warrick's hand. "How did you know that I wanted eggnog?" Nick asked after he had placed the turkey in the oven. 

"A little bird told me that, too." Catherine smiled warmly, and gazed over all of the food in there. She was a little startled to see a plate of dreidel cookies sitting on the counter, the same ones that Sara had been making at her house. Shaking her head, Catherine exited the kitchen walking into the living room. She was surprised to see Grissom and Sara sitting, for one, in the same room, but now they were sitting on the same couch, talking to each other.  Catherine's smile grew broader.  

"What?" Sara asked, looking away from Grissom and over at Catherine. 

"It's just good to have the feeling that everything is right in the world for once." She said, sitting down in one of the chairs. Lindsey came running into the room close on the heels of Muffy and jumped into Catherine's lap. Warrick reentered the room and leaned up against Catherine's chair, scooping Muffy up into his arms. Nick and Greg then emerged from the kitchen carrying wine for everyone.  

"Since we're all here, I just want to say thanks," Catherine stated taking one of the glasses from Greg.   
  


"For what?" Grissom asked taking a drink into his hand. 

"For not strangling me every time I take the limelight, or for every time I get emotionally involved in a case. For every mistake I make on a case, for every suspect I test my DNA against (at this Greg just made a slight gagging sound) and for just putting up with me in general. Thank you."

"What are we supposed to do?" Nick asked, taking a sip, "It's not like we can take drastic actions and hide your body somewhere." 

Catherine laughed, "That's true, but still, I'm not the easiest person to get along with."

"That's okay, Catherine, we all still love you." Warrick placed his arm around her neck. "A toast," he said now raising a glass. "A toast to many more good times," he looked around the room at everyone, "Mended relationships," Warrick stared at Grissom and Sara for a moment and then turned his attention to Catherine, "And many more solved cases." 

"Amen." Sara said leaning slightly into Grissom.  Everyone noticed but no one said a thing. 

"Well, just God bless us, every one." Greg stated, chugging the rest of his drink. "So, who wants some eggnog?"    

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The End 

Happy Holidays everyone, whatever celebrations they may be. 


End file.
